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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646790">Caring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholyllama/pseuds/melancholyllama'>melancholyllama</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Danger Nights [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:56:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholyllama/pseuds/melancholyllama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know Sherlock has danger nights, maybe Mycroft does too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Danger Nights [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018249</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Caring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Hello, Graham."<br/>"It's Greg" John muttered.<br/>"What do you want, Sherlock?" Lestrade snapped.<br/>"Busy, are we?"<br/>"Yes"<br/>"Judging by the sound of your voice, it's a date"<br/>"No, you muppet. It's the office Christmas party, which I invited you to last week. What do you want?"<br/>"It's Mycroft. He needs you."<br/>"Sherlock, he's working. He always works at Christmas, don't worry."<br/>"Please, Greg."<br/>"You never call me Greg."<br/>"I know"<br/>"Fine. I'll go over to his now."<br/>&lt;&gt;<br/>Greg hesitantly pressed the bell by the ornate wooden door. He didn't expect Mycroft to be in and if he was, Greg doubted he would want to see him during such a busy period at work. Yet, the surprise didn't show on Greg's face as Mycroft stood in a bathrobe in the doorway.<br/>"Hello, Greg. I didn't expect to see you tonight"<br/>"Hi. The party was boring so I thought I would come to see you instead."<br/>"Oh. Well, it's nice to see you."<br/>"And you," was all Lestrade could get out before Mycroft had him pinned against the wall, kissing him senseless. As Greg was left gasping for breath, Mycroft pointed at the coffee table.<br/>"There's whiskey on the table if you want it. I'm going to shower."<br/>&lt;&gt;<br/>Lestrade had sat and waited for a few minutes before getting up to look at the paintings. Following that, he poured himself a measure of whiskey and sat admiring the way the amber liquid rolled around the glass. He also wondered why Sherlock had called him but he didn't mind spending time with Mycroft. Finally, as his impatience reached its peak, Greg went in search of the bathroom. As he entered the bathroom, Greg wasn't surprised to see Mycroft stark naked. He was, however, surprised to see him clutching a razor blade to his stomach.<br/>"It's not what you think," Mycroft murmured desperately. Greg reached out and grabbed his wrists. The razor clattered to the floor.<br/>"Funny, isn't it? They always assume it's the wrists." He spoke gently as he wrapped the pale blue towel around Mycroft's body. "Come on darling."<br/>&lt;&gt;<br/>Mycroft leaned back on the pillow; his body tightly enveloped by Greg's. They were lying on the bed in their pyjamas. Greg's fingers delicately traced the fine white lines of self-mutilation on Mycroft's abdomen. Unlike almost every aspect of Mycroft's persona, they were not precisely calculated. Rather, they were a mess of crisscrossed lines and light pink patches that Greg assumed were burns.<br/>"You're not angry?"<br/>"Of course not. Angry, no. Concerned, yes."<br/>"What made you come over?"<br/>"Sherlock called. He said you needed me but wouldn't tell me why"<br/>"It's our protocol," Mycroft chuckled half-heartedly, "on our so-called danger nights, we ring someone to visit the brother. I used to do it myself for Sherlock but that didn't end well. So, then it was Mike and Molly and John."<br/>"Who was it for you?"<br/>"Anthea or whatever she's calling herself today."<br/>"You've got me now."<br/>"I'm surprised Sherlock called you...I'm surprised you came."<br/>"Of course, I came for you."</p>
<p><br/>"I care about you, Mycroft."<br/>"Caring is not an advantage."</p>
<p><br/>"Sometimes it isn't a choice."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's a 2am special, please be kind</p></blockquote></div></div>
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